


Down in the Bronx

by koljah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance does everything at home basically, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Tags to be added, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 22:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koljah/pseuds/koljah
Summary: “You could’ve gotten out, Lance,” Lance turns to face Shiro, his neighbor and best friend (besides Hunk) with a beer bottle in hand and cigarette in the other.“No,” is all he says back, voice soft as his eyes glisten and he tilts his head back to down the rest of his drink. “I couldn’t leave them with him, he’s a good for nothing. They’d be all alone.”“You stayed for them,” Shiro says.“I stayed for them,” Lance affirms.





	Down in the Bronx

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before you get into this. This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now but didn’t know how to plan it although I do have certain points I want to write about. I just decided to go for it, and I hope you find this at least a little entertaining!

This was not how Lance had planned things to go tonight. He didn’t plan to be out so late, drinking long enough for some asshole to slip something into his drink making him incoherent. He didn’t plan to be out in the middle of the dance floor with some douche with his fucking hand down his pants trynna cop a feel. He didn’t plan for some fat ugly old guy to shove him in the backseat of his car, Lance in the back seat leaning against the locked childproof door trying to keep what didn’t belong outside, inside. And he most definitely didn’t plan to be in bed with that same old dude to be on top of him with his jeans around his ankles and his fat hands pulling Lance’s mesh top over his head. 

 

Just because Lance might’ve flirted a little and dressed a little slutty tonight, did not mean he was asking for it. Plus, he was fucking drugged up right now for fucks sake. 

 

Lance gasped at how roughly his pasties were ripped off his nipples, uncomfortable with the tingling sensation that came after. He squirmed at the man’s large hands as they touched the flat of his stomach and traveled upwards towards his chest. When the man’s hand traveled a little lower than what Lance was reluctantly comfortable with that was the final straw for him. He had had enough of tonight not going his way and for him to somehow always be in these situations. Lance might’ve still been a little out of it due to his drink being spiked, but he could tell the dosage wasn’t lethal enough to make him totally uncoordinated or aware. He had been roofied before, he could tell the difference by now. Which he didn’t know if it was something he should be proud about or somewhat ashamed of. 

Thank god Lance still had his shoes on though, and thank god Lance decided to wear his favorite high heels. So Lance did the next best thing he could, he shoved his heel right into the guy’s crotch effectively pushing him off the bed. Lance used that opportunity to roll off the mattress and grab his tossed top.

 

“God, I hate men like you, especially old men like you,” Lance spat out as he pulled his top back over his head, backwards. His heels clicked on the wooden floor as he circled the bed to where this old drunk had fallen. He expected the guy to get angry and throw a fist his way but apparently he also had a little too much to drink tonight. It was a miracle the guy was able to drive at all. He crouched down besides the guy, slipping his hand in the back pocket to pull out a wallet. He opened it, finding a drivers license and a couple of big bills which Lance happily took and pocketed. 

 

“Goodbye, fucking Gerald Smith, you piece of shit.” Lance gave the guy another kick with his heel leaving him whimpering and clutching his pearls on the floor. 

 

Lance stumbled home that night, shaking from the cold and almost getting his heel caught in the pavement. He should’ve taken a coat from the pig but Lance was a little more focused on getting out of the house before the guy could get back up and drag him back to bed to have his way with him.

 

He could’ve also called someone but he didn’t have his phone on him. Probably left it at the club or something. Maybe he forgot it at home, hopefully at home. Lance was trying so hard to look at least the tiniest bit sober, he thinks he’s succeeding. 

 

God, he was going to have a bitch of a migraine tomorrow. 

 

Lance was used to this, though. This was just a normal night for Lance the whore, slut, faggot, tranny. It just depends on who you ask. But if you asked from the source, Lance, he’s just a boy who dressed too femme so the other guys picked on him in order to assert their dominance and secure their masculinity. Because if one thing was for certain, it was that a male’s masculinity was a fragile, delicate thing.

 

High school was a real bitch to get through, college was a little better. He was more free there, more open minded people and less people who actually cared. They were all too busy drowning in student debt, the stress of getting an A, and over doing it on the energy drinks and coffee. 

 

And Lance? He might’ve been able to express himself more freely there, but that didn’t mean people still didn’t take advantage of him. And then people got the wrong idea about him when someone got ahold of his number and wrote the digits in the boy’s bathroom in permanent marker in one of the stalls. 

 

More often than not Lance found himself waking up in a strangers bed with bills thrown around him staring up at the ceiling watching a fan go round and round, almost hypnotizing. Like it was trying to distract him from the fact of what happened the previous night. 

 

Lance needed to be alone for the next couple of days after that, just to process that this had been his life for the last couple of weeks. It happened over and over and no one had cared enough to be bothered by it when he skipped class or was picked up by different guys from time to time. 

 

Now Lance was out of college and stumbling home in the cold trying to get his hand to stop shaking long enough to get the key into the lock. The door creaked opened when the key finally clicked into place and Lance kicked off his heels and went straight to his bedroom after checking up on his siblings for the night. 

 

“Lancey,” Lance nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice. He turned to see his youngest, twin braids coming loose and a hand rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

 

“Sofia, what are you still doing up?” Lance asked, crouching down to her level, fixing the stray strands of hair sticking out of her braids. “You’re supposed to be in bed right now.” 

 

“But you weren’t home,” she mumbled, voice full of sleep. “I didn’t want to sleep without you home.”

 

“I’m home now, sweetheart. Now off to bed you go, kiddo,” Lance was already getting up to take Sofia back to her own bedroom when her hands grasped his shirt to stop him in his tracks. 

 

“Can I sleep with you Lancey?” Her voice was soft, like she had been ready to cry if Lance had not walked through the door the moment he did. Like if he had been gone all night she would’ve woken everyone out of bed and made them search for Lance until he was back home. And not wanting to deny her or make her cry after worrying her tiny heart all night, he complied. 

 

“Alright honey, lets go.”

 

Lance was tired, kind of drugged up, and extremely cold so he opted to just crawl into bed for the night, burying himself under the covers with little Sofia clinging right to his middle deciding to leave the hangover a problem for tomorrow.


End file.
